Finding Bella
by The AAQ
Summary: The finding of Beauty and the redemption of Soul in a tumultuous existence.
1. Chapter 1

Visions fill her head. The consistency of pudding, deep heavy breaths fill her lungs, but does nothing to ease the tingles in her face, ease the spinning of her head. Calloused hands glide freely over her body, removing clothing roughly, softly. Harsh breathing fills her ears, sweat and cologne, beautifully mixed, envelope her nose, strong muscled shoulders move above her. Filled to capacity, she does not know her name, only his, and it is a mantra on her lips, over and over. Sweet waves cascade over her, and she knows no more.

***

I woke up this morning alone. This is not uncommon. I am often alone. You see, my cat thinks I move too much in my sleep, and therefore he abandons me for the floor outside my door. I never understood that. He likes my bed, especially my pillow. And yet, somehow the floor is more welcoming during the night. Maybe it whispers secrets to him, maybe it shares his adventures. But how many adventures can a cat have in a two bedroom apartment? And though the floor is an important character - unless he levitates during the night, which I doubt (he is very lazy and doesn't really jump, he more heaves) all it does is let itself be walked over.

I think I might be attributing too much to a floor. Maybe I do need a boyfriend.

No, I shall think of other matters. Today, I will get out of bed. Then I will eat breakfast, and I won't take it back to my room to eat it. I won't watch movies on my laptop in bed while eating breakfast. I will not lay down after eating breakfast and watching movies, and I will not spend the day reading. I will be productive today. I will... I will... I will pick up the clothes on the floor! Yes! And then I will put them in the washing machine! That will be enough for today.

I think I might be pathetic.

***

Frenetic whispers fill my mind. They speak in fire's burning red and see only blue cold. They hear meanderings and ponderings and sinister thoughts. Guns appear, and everything is wrong. Little girls bleed in corners and frightened little boys lean over them. Men that are not men are everywhere, and they all have guns, they all have knives, and they all stink of murder, of evil, of terror. Even evil and guns shake in fear of me. I shake in fear of me. Black hovers over everything, like a cloud, and blinding yellow spills from windows and corners and ceilings. Screaming and shouts and orders, and everywhere is death. Death here death there above below left right and all around spinning and heaving untilthereisnothing.

NOTHING

***

Coração is hiding, Mente has locked the door, Alma stands in shock, and Instinto has taken over everything, running amok. Everywhere there is chaos and disorder and this isn't how it should be.


	2. Chapter 2

Forceful and masculine, he moves her hands above her head and holds them there captive. Growling, he bites her ear hard. Pushing her legs apart, he thrusts into her fast and hard. His movement makes her whole body shake, makes her stomach rub against the sheets. His power is unrelenting, his presence overwhelming, and for the life of her she cannot help but like it.

***

Today I did get up. I didn't eat breakfast not in my bed, but I did do laundry. I thought that was good.

I'm thinking my cat doesn't like to sleep on my pillow much anymore because I'm always there. I used to be gone during the day, but now I'm not, and he doesn't need my pillow to feel close to me, to smell me. He doesn't need to even be in the same room to smell me because I can't remember the last time I showered.

Maybe I'll do that tomorrow. That's a good goal for tomorrow.

I definitely am pathetic.

***

White yellow sand is endless in all directions. The air smells of dust and dirt, and there is no indication of water. Everything is parched and withered, and yet I stand here alive. I'm not sure how that is. I'm not sure why that is. Normally I bring death with me, but it seems I've preceded myself. I look down. A lizard is at my feet. It's body would decay, but there is no water - not even in the air - to start the process, so it is merely a dried husk, a shell. As I watch, an eagle screeches, diving from the sky after some sort of prey, but it makes the mistake of looking at me, and it too falls dead.

***

When Alma came home, she did not expect to find this. She stared horrified at the great slashes of red splashed across the walls, the great blobs of black sporadically spread throughout. Mente would never allow this. Coração would shrink at the color choices. She was always more soft, more pastel than the vivid colors on the walls. Alma tentatively steps into the house calling out. No one answers.

Suddenly there is a great crash and violent cursing. Alma rushes into the kitchen, but skids to a stop, seeing Instinto there, throwing pots and pans everywhere. Old dried food is caked on the dishes that aren't even in the sink because it's filled with... Alma doesn't even know what the sink is filled with. It seems the floor hasn't been swept in months, let alone mopped, and there are questionable sticky, stained splotches everywhere.

"Instinto! What are you doing?!"

Instinto stills, but does not look up.

"Instinto! I asked you a question!"

Still he does nothing. Alma sighs. Clearly Mente and Coração are out, but judging by the state of disrepair, they have been gone for a while, and they know better. Everyone knows you never leave Instinto by himself. He may be very useful in tight situations, but with no guidance... Well, the consequences of that is evidential.

"Instinto, where is Mente?"

He grunts and gestures up. Alma assumes this means she is upstairs. But she cannot leave Instinto yet, something is nagging at her.

"Are you looking for something?"

He growls, nodding, and resumes throwing the occupants of the cupboards about.

"What are you looking for?"

Instinto looks up at her with wide, sad eyes, and rubs his belly. Alma feels herself reaching the end of her patience, but not with Instinto. She knows Instinto is what he is, and there is no changing that. But she does not understand why Mente and Coração could have allowed this to happen. She knows why she left, and could even understand why Coração might have, but Mente? She certainly knew better.

Looking around, Alma spies a cupboard that has not been looted yet, and finds a few granola bars stashed inside. She gives them all to Instinto - she knows his appetite - and makes her way to the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

A mound of blankets and pillows surround her on the bed. They provide comfort, because he is not here with her. He is in the other room, the bathroom she thinks, doing something. Maybe showering. Maybe not. She hears his voice calling her name, and she cautiously get up, and heads toward where she thinks he is. She is tentative - she remembers what happened the last time she got up without permission. Peeking around the corner, she does find him in the bathroom, the shower running, steam filling the room. He gestures her in, gestures her to close the door.

***

I had to get up this morning. It wasn't a matter of choice, I couldn't debate in my head whether or not I wanted to. I had to do it. You see, my cat wasn't on my pillow, nor in my room, nor on the floor outside my room. He was in the kitchen, collapsed, surrounded by a pool of sick. This looked all wrong. I knew he and the floor had an interesting relationship, but didn't everyone? What did the floor do to him that he felt the need to throw up all over it?

I decided to ponder that later. Apparently the floor was mad at him for being sick all over it, and wouldn't let him get up. I walked gingerly over, and heaved him up. The floor didn't release him willingly. Then I thought, _Ok, now what? _ As I thought, I walked over to my bathroom, thinking that if my cat did need help, I really should shower.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, hoping the door wouldn't lock me in because I helped my cat when the floor was mad at him, and decided to put him on the counter because I wasn't sure the floor would give him back if I put him there. It was then I noticed that my cat hadn't really moved. He just lay lethargically. I didn't think that was normal, so I flushed the toilet; normally he hates that sound and runs away. But he didn't move, just groaned as much as a cat can groan.

It's then I realized that something more was wrong. If my cat had made the floor mad, then whatever was wrong should have gone away when I lifted him off the floor. Unless the counter was mad at him, but I didn't think that was so. Counters are generally very accommodating and patient, and I don't let my cat on them unless I need a good look at him. Generally the counters understood that.

I sighed. I really didn't want to go out, but my cat was important, and there was a chance that he was sick, and not just feeling vindictive toward the floor. I would have to take him to the vet, and I didn't want to go outside. It had been a while since I'd done that, and to be honest, the prospect was scary. But it was either cower in fear and lose my cat, or cower in fear and help my cat.

I liked my cat. I didn't like outside, and generally it didn't like me; it did like to put things in front of my feet so I would trip. But I thought that if I didn't brave outside, then my cat may go away, and I would be alone. I didn't like being alone. That's why I had my cat.

I decided to be brave and go outside. But first, a shower.

***

A great metallic pounding resonated in my ears. I looked around and there was a man with a giant hammer, pounding on something glowing white and hot and red and yellow on an anvil. I thought this curious. I walked closer, but realized this might be bad. He might see me, might look at me, and he might die. So I stayed in the shadows, hidden and watching.

***

"Mente," Alma calls. "Mente, stop being ridiculous and come down at once!"

There is no reply. This irritates Alma. Mente always hears her, even if Mente choses not to listen. So Alma, grumbling, climbs the stairs to see where Mente might be. At the top she looks around. The doors here move about, so she needs to be careful which door she opens. One never knew what might come spilling out. She walks to each door, lays a hand on it, but nothing happens. Odd.

"Instinto! Can you please come help me?"

She hears shuffling and mumbling, and Instinto appears next to her.

"Which room is she in? Can you tell?"

Instino looks around vaguely. Hardly a moment passes when he grunts, points to a door, then wanders off.

Alma paused, considering. From what she remembers, she was pretty sure that is not Mente's bedroom door. Nor is it the bathroom, or even the closet. She thinks that might be Coração's room, but at this point, she feels life is crazy enough to make anything possible. So she lifts her hand, and knocks on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

She softly closes the door, and peeks up at him under her lashes. She isn't really sure what he wants, what's going on, so she decides to wait and see. He turns to the shower, opens the door and motions for her to go in. She steps cautiously under the water, and looks at him. He grins; and though the shape of the grin is familiar, it has a hint of something else in it, but she doesn't know what.

***

When I stepped out of my shower, I noticed that my cat was still sprawled across the counter, but it didn't look like the counter was mad. So far it still just let my sick cat lay there, gracious and accommodating, like counters do. The floor, on the other hand, was a different story. There was more sick on it, and I decided that the floor must have done something awful to make him so sick. Maybe it rolled and roiled, upsetting his stomach. Maybe it fouled some of his food, causing him to heave it up.

I quickly got dressed, thankful I had managed to do laundry yesterday and actually had clean clothes to wear. I pickup up my cat and held him to my chest, then grabbed my purse and walked to the front door. I stood staring at it for a moment. I liked this door. It kept outside out for me. And it even had a nice big lock on it so that I could make doubly sure it stayed out.

I slowly turned that nice big lock, then twisted the knob, but didn't open the door yet. I needed a moment. I took that moment, and tried not to make it too long because my poor cat did look very miserable and was very hot.

That's how I knew he was alive you see. Dead things are cold, not hot.

***

I watched Anvil Man for a while. I liked the way he looked. I could see his muscles straining under the weight of the hammer, shaping whatever the white yellow red hot thing was into whatever it was supposed to be. I liked the sharp tang in the air that reminded me of metal and blood, but not really in a bad way. It was a neutral smell - not good, not bad. It just was.

I wondered how that could be. Not many things just are, especially around me. Most things around me are dead.

"Beleza. I know you are there. Come out little one."

His voice shocked me. Did he know my name? Was that my name? Did I have a name?

"Beleza, little one, come out."

I did not move. If I came out, he would look at me and then he would die, and I didn't want him to die. I liked him. He wasn't dead, and he was pretty, and I liked the neutral smell.

"Belaza, if you do not come out, I will come get you, and you will not like that."

Somehow I believed him. I still wasn't sure if I was or was not Beleza, but I thought that if nothing else, I could say, 'Oh sorry, I thought you meant me,' and walk away.

I stepped out, and he gave me a piercing stare. I flinched, sure this pretty man would fall dead. But he didn't. His skin smoked a little, but other than a brief flicker in his eyes, he gave no reaction.

***

There is no reply. Alma, weary of games, simply opens the door. She stands nonplussed for a moment, taking in the scene. It is indeed Coração's room, but everything here is littered with papers and book and clothes and dust. The bed is rumpled, and shivering in the corner is Mente.

"Mente?" Alma calls softly.

Mente winces, covering her ears and muttering, "Don't lose it, Mente. She's not here, she's not here. They're gone. They're not here. Don't listen."

This frightens Alma. She's seen Mente lose her mind a few times, but this looks like... She doesn't know what this looks like, but she knows it's not good.

Kneeling down in front of Mente, Alma takes her hands softly and caresses them. Mente squeaks and buries her head in her knees, but does not remove her hands from Alma's.

Tears stinging the edges of her eyes, Alma wraps her arms around Mente, and holds her close.


	5. Chapter 5

She stared at him while he slept, listening to his soft breathing in her ear. It occurred to her that the only soft thing about him was his breathing. His face was always hard, even in sleep, and she was always told that people soften in their sleep, that they look like children or angels. She wondered why that was, as often one was not the other. And he was certainly neither.

***

Outside was kinder to me than I thought it would be. I thought that might be because my cat is sick, and outside must like animals because there are a lot of animals in outside. At least, it didn't put things in front of my feet to make me trip, and I made a mental note to thank outside once I got home.

The bus ride wasn't so nice though. There were too many people and cars and they all stared at me, and my cat threw up on my lap. A nice lady with kids and a very big bag gave me some tissues to clean myself up, but didn't let her kids pet my cat.

The lady behind the counter at the vet's is nice though, or at least prompt. That might have more to do with my cat being sick all over her floor than any particular kindness, but as it got my cat seen sooner, I decide not to dwell on it.

The vet is genuinely nice though. She is short with spiky black hair and too much energy. She rushes around too fast, petting my cat, shushing my cat, fussing over him, taking his temperature using the most uncomfortable means. I want to tell her to slow down, that she's making me dizzy, and if she was making me dizzy, then what must she be doing to my poor cat? But I'm not brave enough.

I decide to work on being brave once I was safely back home.

The vet starts to tell me that my cat is over the worst of being sick, that he could go home and rest, but she is quickly silenced by my cat heaving up even more sick, and it doesn't look healthy. Not that sick ever looks healthy.

I wonder just how big my cat's stomach was that there was this much sick in him. I knew that lions and tigers could eat whole antelope in one sitting, but I don't think my cat can. Just as I ponder stomach to body size ratios in myself and various sized animals of the feline variety, someone clears their throat.

"I'm afraid we'll have to keep him here over night to keep an eye on him," the vet says.

This makes me very sad. My poor cat would stay in a strange place all by himself in a cage with a tiny towel as his sole comfort. And I would be alone tonight.

I don't like being alone.

But if being alone tonight means that I'm not alone other nights, then I think I might be able to be brave this once.

When I finally get home, I close my nice big door, lock my nice extra lock, and thank outside for its kindness today. I send a thought skyward, asking the clouds and whatever else is up there to look after my cat too.

***

I gawked in amazement. He didn't fall dead, even if his skin was still smoking.

"Child, stop staring, it hurts."

I immediately looked down. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were just as dry as the desert where the lizard lay dead and I killed the eagle.

I shuffled my feet on the floor, unsure. I didn't know what Anvil Man wanted, or why he was here, or why he wanted me here, or why I was here, or where he was. It seemed I didn't know much at all.

I risked a glance up at him, and I saw he was looking at the white / red / yellow / hot thing. Curiosity got the better of me.

"What is that?"

My voice came out in a shallow whisper. I was not surprised - after all, if looking at me killed things, then why should my voice be strong?

Anvil Man looked at me, as if considering something very important.

"This is the key to your salvation, little one."

***

Alma rocks Mente for and indeterminate time. Mente shivers and whimpers, and occasionally words like, "She's not here," and "Don't lose it, Mente, don't lose it."

As Alma rocks and soothed, she considered all she saw. She saw disarray, disorder, and neglect. She thinks the neglect may not be purposeful though, judging by Mente's mental state.

She thinks her going away may have wreaked more damage than she originally thought. She knew at the time that Mente and Coração would not have an easy time without her, but she thought they would get by just fine, that they would meet her at the door with resentful, suspicious looks and mutinous whispers.

Alma isn't sure what to do next. She wants to stay with Mente, assure her that she is real, not a mental figmentation, but she does not know how to do that. She also wants to find Coração, but does not know where to start. She debates internally for a while, then decides to send for Instinto. She calls for him, and with his usual speed he appears.

"Instinto, will Mente be alright if I leave her for a while?"

Instinto looks blankly at her. Alma sighs; she should have known better than to ask him on a judgement call, but it was worth a shot anyway.

"Will you please stay with Mente and keep her company?"

Instino looks at her like she too has lost her mind, but sits down next to Mente anyway and starts twiddling his thumbs.

Alma rolls her eyes, but heads downstairs to see if Coração is there.


End file.
